Out For Some Arid Air
by Ignika Kaita
Summary: My entry for the September 2015 MonCon. Before Beacon can open its doors, its staff need a general plan for the future. Which students to accept, what lessons to teach them, that sort of thing. Two certain Hunters head to the deserts of Vacuo for these reasons. Rated T for some violence (if slaying monsters can count as such).


_**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, but I do own one (minor) character here.**_

 **Date and time: Uncertain, believed to be during the summer prior to the foundation of Teams RWBY and JNPR.**

' _Beauty'_ is a rather complicated word. Different people have different views, different tastes. Some think of men and women, others priceless pieces of art. Some tough, prefer to look beyond the horizon when it comes to such a thing.

Many believe that mankind was the master of the arts. Whoever said must've been a blind fool, in the eyes of two certain men. To them, the one true artist on Remnant was Mother Nature itself. Many cannot argue against this, as many have seen what it has to offer. Fruitful gardens, endless jungles, bottomless seas, winter wonderlands.

Right now, they were trekking across one of nature's under-appreciated works. Many would consider this one to be a wasteland, devoid of rain and green. A good chuck of the place was buried under a sea of sand, and what wasn't was bare flatland. Every now and then, some form of flora sprouted out of the dry earth. Certain wildlife darted across the ground, though they paid no heed to the humans.

Bartholomew Oobleck smiled at it all. _Just goes to show how stubborn life can be._ He thought to himself.

A startled yelp brought him out of his thoughts. He twisted around to see a large burgundy shape rolling down the dune. The sphere rolled into the sand below, partially burying itself. The entity clawed its way out of the grainy pit, revealing itself to be Peter Port.

The man grumbled under his breath, shaking off the essence of Vacuo.

"Remind me why we're out here in this blasted wasteland?" The elder ask.

"Ozpin said that there's a tribe that wishes to enlist some of their warriors into our Academy," Replied his younger comrade. "He wants us to rendezvous with them and validate their claims."

Oobleck grinned. "And besides, we could use new material for our new students. I've been looking forward to studying some of the ruins and tribes here. And I'm sure that a hunter such as yourself would find some game out here."

The other Hunter scuffed. "We could've easily brought back some prey from the woods," He said. "We have all kinds of Grimm there."

The green-haired one chuckled. "Port, you know as much as I do that Remnant is a world of variety. Different environments, different civilizations and people… and of course, different monsters."

The grey-haired one paused, grumbling under his breath. Under normal circumstances, he would've been in a jollier mood. However, the desert heat was taking its toll on him. For the past few days, he and Oobleck have been walking underneath the scorching sun. The Doctor told him to dress properly for the trip, but the old man didn't heed his words. Now he was wishing that he did.

The man glanced down at his cartage, still holding at least half of its water. While he may have chosen the wrong attire, he was at least smart enough to bring the proper tools. Oobleck held a compass in one hand, a map in the other. Port had his Blunderbuss out, scanning the area for any potential Grimm. Of course, there have also been reports of raiders outside the Kingdom. The elder had no quarrels dealing with beasts, but with his own people... He just shook his head.

 _The depths some men are willing to dive into._ He thought to himself.

Bartholomew tapped the old one's shoulder, pointed at something up ahead. Before them was an old fort, or at least, the rotting corpse of one. For the most part, it seemed to be made of stone, held together by mud. A crude tower was on the farthest corner of the structure, bearing a single window-like opening. The entrance had no such thing near it, so it naturally lacked light.

Something seemed off about it. "Do the natives around here know anything about architecture?" Port asked.

Oobleck placed a hand on his chin. "Negative. This looks more like something the Vacuan army built during The War. An outpost, perhaps."

He slipped his tools into his pockets, drawing out a torch and lighter.

"You want to stand guard the entrance while I study this?" The adventurer asked.

The hunter shook his head, following the younger lad. Lighting the torch, the green-haired one led the way. The duo walked slowly in the darkness, their footsteps echoing across the hall. Port keep his Blunderbuss out, eyes darting across every corner. Something snapped under his foot, startling him a bit. He nearly jumped when he discovered bones littered across the floor. Oobleck spun around, spotting the white object on the floor. His face paled.

The elder pointed behind the man, noting mote bone. Reluctantly, the two followed the trail. Within seconds, they found themselves surrounded by skeletons, many of them in pieces. Some of them still possessed leather armor, bearing the mark of Vacuo. Others were locked in a more metallic kind, carrying the symbol of Atlas instead.

All of the armor, regardless of its material, was in a sorry state. The suits were weathering away, falling to rot and rust. Some of them had numerous cuts on them, others bullet holes. But the bones beneath them were in far worse condition. Many were broken, twisted in unnatural directions, and riddled with bite marks.

That last detail triggered something in Port. _Bite marks…?_

A sinister chuckle echoed across the ruin. Turning their gaze towards a nearby hallway, they spotted a Grimm staring at them. It was a tall, scrawny entity, possessing a hyena-like head. Its face bore yellowed teeth, crazed fiery-red eyes, and pointed ears. Each of its long limbs ended in bone-white claws, also bearing a diseased tint to them. It bore messy black fur, with bits of its skin missing. The two could make out a crimson, quasi-organic material in those gaps.

The thing seemed to be grinning at them, cackling under its breath. A couple of barks came further back, with a wave of shadows moving behind the beast. Eight more sets of blood-red eyes flickered to life behind it, muttering the same frenzied laughter. A shiver went down the spines of the gentlemen. They both recognized this breed of beasts.

"Ghouls…" Whispered the younger man.

One of the abominations charged at them, screeching like a banshee. Oobleck threw the torch into the monster's face, earning a surprised yelp. He quickly drew out Thermos, converting it into weapon-mode. Port fired away with his Blunderbuss, scattering the beasts. Another lunged at them, only to be bashed into the ground by the doctor's makeshift bat. He finished it off with a quick spray of fire, incinerating the body.

The eldest parried a blow from another member of the pack, before he slammed the bladed side of his gun into its ribcage. He yanked it back out and spun around as another tried to slash at him from behind, decapitating it. A third managed to pounce on him, knocking the tool out of his hands. The man and beast wrestled with each other, the latter trying to sink its teeth into the former's throat.

"A little help here, sport," Port grunted, still tumbling around with the thing.

Oobleck complied, sending a fireball towards the two. The grey-haired man managed to push the Grimm into the sphere, blowing it to smithereens. He made a dash towards his weapon, firing a shot at another Ghoul's knee as he did so. The monster yelped in pain, falling to its good one. Port ran up to the beast, pulling the trigger under its chin and blasting its head into a red mist.

Oobleck reloaded his weapon, switching out the Fire-Dust cartridge for Ice instead. He fired it at one of the creatures, freezing it in place. He used the opportunity to bat it into another member of its pack, shattering the prisoner into a thousand pieces. While the surviving one was dazed, he knocked it into the ceiling, and bashed it into the ground as it fell back.

The architect turned to see Port standing over another Ghoul, axe on his shoulder in a triumphant poss. His comrade responded in a similar manner, chuckling a bit. He gave a thumps up to the green-haired one, smiling. His shoulders drooped a second later, the gin fading. Without warning, he threw his weapon at the other man.

Oobleck ducked, yelping as the tomahawk flew over his head. He heard a pained grunt from behind, causing him to raise an eyebrow. A quick spin revealed the source to be the head of the pack, judging from the fresh burn marks on its face. The axe side of the weapon had lodged itself into the Ghoul's abdomen, with the handle facing its head. While the beast was busy processing what just happened, the trigger went off on its own account. Its headless corpse dropped to the ground, already evaporating.

The elder went to retrieve the tool, casting the younger teacher a prideful smirk. The latter simply crossed his arms in response. The two decided to sweep the area, making sure that no other packs were present. Once they felt certain, they made their way towards the top floor. The place was a wreck, almost as if a dust devil had pasted through here. Oddly enough, the area was devoid of bones.

Oobleck, however, noticed something out of place. There was a peculiar stain across here and there, in a dark color resembling crimson. Most of it was in thin streaks or blots, and seemed to forming atrial of some form. The two followed it, finding themselves at the remains of a door. Judging from the looks of things, it seemed as if someone tore the thing down.

The room beyond was a complete mess. A desk was turned over, likely to act as cover. Its contents were spilt all over the stone floor. Maps and banners hung on the walls, all worn out and deprived of their colors. There, impaled on the wall before them, were the remains of some nameless fellow. Judging from the fact that he possessed more armor than the previous Vacuans, he must've been the commander of this place.

The blade of the sword was coated in the same dark muck, and seemed to be on the verge of fracturing. The owner of the weapon wasn't far behind, bearing as much armor as his opponent. His head and limbs were missing, though the armor was still intact for the most part. One could assume that he led the Atlesian invaders in life. Oobleck noted some old books lying around, and decided to look through them. Most of them were outdated guides about the kingdom, though a couple of them did catch his attention.

One of them bore the mark of Vacuo, the other Atlas. Looking through them, could tell that they didn't originate from some printing press. No, most of the writing was handwritten. It was obvious that these two figures used this as some type of journal. Both of them seemed to be written in a different dialect, though. Probably some type of code from The War. He slipped them into his backpack carefully, mindful of their age.

Leaving the office behind, they came across what appeared to the barracks. The beds were made of stone, lacking a blanket or pillow. They had an even surface for the most part, so they seemed to be bearable. Port plopped down on one, taking a few more sips from his cartridge. Oobleck spotted an old candle near-by, lighting it up. He sighed in relief as the light spread across the room.

"We'll rest here for the day," Said Oobleck, drawing out his journal and books.

The man yawned, rolling into a comfortable position and dozing off. The adventurer used this time to study the books. Grabbing the Vacuan one first, he went to work decoding the pages. It took an hour or two, but he managed to translate the text. He repeated the process with the second one, bearing the same results. Almost _exactly_ the same…

Both of the journals mentioned a number of peculiar creatures. One of them was described as a "bronze demon", spouting smoke and fire. Another was a silver entity, a mass lacking a default shape. There were also notes regarding a man in amber robes, bearing a featureless white mask. And those were just the tip of the iceberg.

Oobleck put a hand on his chin. A good chunk of the Vacuans believe that various spirits roam this Kingdom. Many of the tribes hold their ancestors in high regard, sometimes to the point of worship. There have also been reports of misshaped figures that, quote, _"have wandered this world since the moon was young."_ Of course, most of society scoffs at all this. Many tend to look down at the tribes, calling them superstitious animals. But if there's one thing his line of work taught him, it's that even legends hold a silver of truth.

A clank brought him back to reality. He packed the books back up, activating his weapon. He creeped out the room, noticing a light flickering around the corner. The man shimmied along the walk, poking his head out a bit. He could two men at the other end of the hall, bearing more modern cloths and armor. Many of them had some type of bone on their person, likely from a human or Faunus. They carried modern weapons, two-handed ones at that.

 _Raiders…_ The teacher realized.

He needed to warn Port about this. Just as he turned around, though, something collided with his skull. All he could remember at that time was a blur and a storm of muffles.

* * *

Oobleck awoke with a groan. The world spun for a moment, but everything became crystal clear once the pain subsided. He tried to move his limbs, but he felt something tying them together. A quick glance confirmed this, his hands and feet bound behind him. Someone shoved something metal at the back of his head at that moment.

"Hey boss, this one's still kicking," Said a brutish voice.

Turned his gaze back to the front, noting the men and bonfire before him. The one at the center of the crowd It didn't take a genius to pin him as the leader of the gang. He tilted his head a bit, spotting Port not far behind them. He wasn't faring so well either. All of their gear was near another goon, assault rifle in hand.

The brute circled around him, facing the leader. "What'd we do with them?"

The alpha scoffed. "They got nothing value on them. It'd be pointless to waste resources on them."

"Permission to blow their brains out then?" He said with a twisted grin.

The head gave him a thumbs up, mimicking the other's face. The joy didn't last one, though, as he slapped his neck with a grunt. The crew turned all their eyes on him, seeing him yank something off of his shoulder. As soon as he got a look at the object in hand, he just collapsed. The men jumped, yelping at the sight. A number of blurs collided with their bodies, toppling the henchmen as well.

A shadow slipped behind Port, cutting the ropes that held him. The sportsman rushed over to the historian, undoing his binds. The retrieved their gear, glancing at the goons. For the most part, they seemed to be breathing. Oobleck knelt before one, yanking off something embedded in his chest. It turned out to be a simple dart, a dark green substance at the tip of it.

Their rescuer stepped into the light, revealing himself to be a bronze-skinned man. His body was lined with tattoos, many of them resembling some type of rune. The armor he bore seemed to be a relic from The War, similar to the uniforms of the dead soldiers. Long, needle-like hairs grew from his arms, the tips bearing a hint of dark green. An orange-yellow helm obscured most of his face, seemingly molded after that of a spider. Though the majority of his face was obscured, one could see pitch-black eyes behind it. The spear in his hands was laced with Dust, judging from the glowing veins on it. If he were to guess, this man was a Faunus.

"You Hunters, yes?" Spoke the tribal in broken Remnantian.

Oobleck nodded, recognizing their language. "And I'm assuming that you're the ones that invited us here?" He replied in their tongue.

The man chuckled. "An educated outsider," He responded in kind. "Rare these days. Yes, I am one of the representatives of my tribe. I am Heremus of the Anuflutix. Or _'Moon Drifters'_ , as your kind call us."

A groan caught their attention. One of the minions was stirring.

"Think now might be a good time to leave," The historian said.

A whistle caught their attention. A large, dune buggy-like vehicle rolled into the light, coated in worn tan paint. A turret was wielded onto its backside, with a seat attached to it. It was at least large enough to hold four people in it. And in the front seat was Port, bearing a mischievous grin.

"Anyone up for a road trip?" He laughed heartily.

The tribal and outsider looked at one another. The native climbed into the backseat, albeit reluctantly. Oobleck climbed into the passenger seat beside the elder, drawing out his map.

"Follow the Watcher's Eye," instructed Heremus, pointing at a celestial body. "The golden star right there.

Oobleck nodded, translating the information for Port. The hunter started the engine, a metallic purr emerging from it. The machine sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind. Within seconds, the ruins faded into the night.

Oobleck turned his gaze upwards, forgetting about the dunes round him. Stars of countless colors burned in the darkness above, hovering in the void. He could make out a forest green, ocean blue, ebony-black, ash grey, and so much more. The moon shone above them, its fragments drifting away. Some likened it to a broken mirror, others a great egg hatching. The historian returned to Remnant, casting a glance towards his partner.

"Well, I suppose we have more material for our students now," The doctor said with a smile.

Port nodded in agreement with soft chuckle.

 _ **Fast forward towards the beginning of the school year.**_

Somewhere within one of Beacon's many lecture halls, a maelstrom whirled about. Papers and articles flew about, many of them finding themselves pined to a large map of Remnant. The blur paused, grabbing a chair and speeding towards the entrance. Two flags were instantly hung around the entrance, bearing the mark of Vale. The seat found itself back at the board, a silhouette of a messy figure attaching old posts and connection countless red lines across the top of the board. Unfortunately, the man bite off more than he can chew, so to speak. He lost his balance in his haste, tossing his materials into the air and toppling off of his stand.

Oddly enough, his body never made contact with the ground. If anything, it was actually hovering in midair. The professor noticed a purple energy around his body before it spun him around a bit. He found himself standing straight up, staring at a blonde-haired woman. She wasn't exactly too pleased, to say the least.

"Oh, Glynda," Oobleck said, recognizing the woman. "When did you slip in?"

"Just now," She replied, crossing her arms. "Ozpin's having me run inspections on everyone."

"Ah yes, tomorrow's the big day, isn't it?" The doctor said, dashing around the room for a few more seconds. "Well, I'm terribly busy, if you haven't noticed. Got papers to file, books to sort out, that sort of thing."

Glynda smiled. "Just be ready by tomorrow. Wouldn't want to disappoint everyone after all the adventures you've been through."

Bartholomew skidded to a stop. "How did you-"

"Port told everyone about Vacuo," She added. "Said that you two had plenty of ideas for this year. Some of the staff were wondering if you could perhaps discuss them with us."

Oobleck paused, processing the information. "Hmm, that is a bit tempting, Ms. Goodwitch. I'm afraid that now isn't exactly the best time, though. This weekend, perhaps?"

Glynda nodded. "Of course. You have good day now, Mr. Oobleck."

The woman turned her back, making her way to the exit. Once the huntress left the room, the man chuckled to himself.

"You can never keep your mouth shut, can you Port?" He said under his breath.


End file.
